Author's note: So my friend sent me this FML link and it sounded JUST like FrUk, so I worked off the quote she gave me and made this. It's a little heartbreaking because at the time I wrote it I was feeling pretty sad and lonely, so I channeled my feelings onto Iggy. Sorry, baby D: But I like how it came out anyway ^_^

***

He had been busy at work in the kitchen, making all his specialties and eagerly anticipating the arrival of his guest. France was due to be coming over very soon, so his time was limited. He wanted everything to be special.

When the food was done, he placed it on the table and smiled. He was going to love it. He had even made some French dishes. He normally avoided French food like the plague, but since this was a special occasion, he figured he could squeeze it into his dinner menu.

He was washing his hands in the sink when he heard the door open and France walk inside. He went to greet him at the doorway, but France had a scrunched up look on his face and was sniffing the air.

“It stinks of shit in here…Angleterre, have you been cooking again?”

England felt his heart break a little. France turned towards him with a smile (the bastard) and went to kiss him, but England shoved him away and stormed back into the kitchen trying to hide his tears.

“Angleterre? Arthur!” France called after him but he didn’t listen as he overturned the pots and pans. England reached for the ring around his middle finger and struggled to yank it off. “Arthur, what did I say? Arthur!” He didn’t stop and managed to pull the ring off. France cornered him by the sink.

“You…bloody…I hate you,” England hissed, blinking back tears. “I worked so hard…to make it perfect for you…and…”

France’s eyes widened and he tried reached a hand up to caress the other’s face. “Arthur—”

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” He held the ring up between his thumb and forefinger. “You see this, Francis? It’s going down the drain where it belongs!” He held it over the sink.

“Non!” France cried, grabbing at his wrist. “Arthur, Arthur, listen to me. I was only joking.” He kissed the underside of his wrist gently. “You have never reacted like this whenever I kid you.”

“Because it’s never…never been a special occasion,” England sobbed. “It was all for you, you bloody frog.”

“Oh, mon cher, shh. Come here.” The Frenchman hugged him to his chest and stroked his hair. “Désolé.”

England sniffed and shook his head. “If you would rather have some stupid gourmet meal for our anniversary then I’ll—”

“Non, mon amour,” France whispered, taking England’s hand and slipping the ring back on. He kissed the fingers softly. “I want the food you made.”

England dried his eyes and managed a tiny smile and blush. “Well, it’s getting cold, isn’t it? L-Let’s go eat…”

France held him against the sink and smiled warmly. Then he leaned forward and kissed him, molding his mouth over his lover’s. He wiped the stray tears from England’s cheeks as he broke away. “Happy first anniversary, mon belle Angleterre.”

Yes, yes I'm a bloody sap. I know already.

Translations (that are hopefully correct):

Désolé - I'm sorry
mon amour - my love
mon belle Angleterre - my beautiful England (it SHOULD mean this, but if it's wrong, blame my French/English dictionary :/ )

And yes these two are married. Wut.